I developed a strong love for the streets of Chiang Mai. We were there for a week, and I found myself walking through the city at all times of the day.
When we arrived it was Sunday and we were told we had to check out the Sunday Market. It was one of the best markets I have ever had the pleasure of shopping. There were unique gifts among the touristy knickknacks and food everywhere. We dined on dried strawberries, spicy papaya salad and fried chicken.
The Sunday market was a great way to really experience life in the Northern Thai city. Not only did we see the commerce unfold, but the market took up the main street through the center of the old city. Temples abounded, and you could see the marriage of new boutique hotels and old establishments. It was the first feeling I had in the city, and it was one that highlighted the dichotomy of old and new, of local and expat.
While in the city I was working US hours and found a co-working space about one kilometer from our hotel. I bought a week pass and started the ritual of walking there around 7pm, working, and then walking home around 2am.
The walk between the hotel and office was on a street lined with bars and restaurants. At seven in the evening, people were congregating for beer, food, and company. It was full of life and I couldn’t help getting caught up in it. I wanted to meet new people, make friends and eat. It made going to work difficult.
Two o’clock in the morning was entirely different. The short walk in the old city was deserted. I passed an old temple fast asleep among tall trees, a book store long closed, and dark restaurants advertising delicious Thai food. Once I left the old city, it all changed. Then it was a barrage of tuk-tuk drivers and prostitutes vying for my attention. I would politely smile and shake my head, but that didn’t stop the pursuit. Women would cat-call me from shadowy corners. A few would ask me where I was going, ask if they could join me, or entice me to follow them. The most memorable were the prostitutes on scooters that would follow me down the street imploring me to come home with them.
The first night’s walk home was a little jarring, but I smiled in spite of myself and laughed it off. By the end of the week, I felt like I was part of their nightly rhythm, the American guy with the backpack that would awkwardly smile and shake his head. It was an odd little late-night community, and I realized I enjoyed the interaction even if it wasn’t really kosher. I imagined myself being part of their group each night as they laughed together over food and propositions.
On another day, we found ourselves on the other side of the city for dinner. Deciding to walk about four kilometers to the same co-working space, I ended up traversing much of Chiang Mai. This time, it wasn’t the hustle and bustle of markets or the citizens of the late night. It was just normal. I walked past hospitals, offices, convenience stores, car dealerships, and yes – more temples. It was this walk that made me really see the daily Chiang Mai and its people.
Walking (and cycling) have always been my favorite things to do in new places. The power of walking through a new place is immense. Nothing puts you together with people quite like hiking through a city. Thailand is a place built to entice your senses, and Chiang Mai is an old soul with a young thirst for life that is infectious. I was honored to be a temporary citizen as I explored her on foot and I can’t wait until the next stroll.